


Show Me Something Real

by daevenie



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Friendship, GOT7 are like the X-Men, Mutant Powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daevenie/pseuds/daevenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark can see the future. That's how he knows Jackson is going to die.</p><p>And it's all Mark's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_I’ll never forget that night until the day I die._

_It was snowing, the kind of snow you wish for at Christmas, falling ever so softly in fat fluffs with a stillness in the air that makes you afraid to breathe, just in case that one breath might blow it all away. The moon shone with a pale glow that glimmered and shimmered across the glossy skyscrapers and reflected back. Streetlights twinkled and flickered with electric surges, adding to the luminescence. I was intruding on this crystalline world, my lungs heaving hot air, disrupting the flakes’ fall and my legs sprinting as fast as they could carry me, the air resounding with smacks as my feet hit the pavement. I slid as I hit hidden ice patches, but kept running, my lungs burning from the cold and my body screaming at me in pain. But I couldn’t stop even if I had wanted to. I had to get there in time. I had to. If I didn’t…I didn’t want to think about it._

Faster _, my mind screamed to my body. I had no idea of the time, and I had no idea how long I had been running. I was scared to my core, and every fiber of my being wanted to just hide in my disheveled closet among my dirty clothes, letting my guilt increase and fold over me like a blanket, smothering me._

_As I rounded the corner of the nearest building, my reflection a blur, I slipped on a larger patch of ice and skidded on my side to the middle of the street, slowing myself to a stop with my bare hands, which were now bleeding.  Seeing the coming headlights and ignoring the pain, I rolled to the sidewalk and quickly stood up. I glanced out towards the cliff top surrounded by guardrails and, to my dismay, found nothing. In my momentary pause, tears began to fill my eyes, blurring my vision. I was too late._

I was too late.

_“So be it.”_

_My head snapped around in the other direction, facing the old railroad tracks._ There! _I wasn’t too late. I sprinted towards the sound as I heard loud but muffled words and rocks shifting as someone moved, my heartbeat resounding in my head like a machine gun._

_I shouted his name, breathless, as I rounded the far side of the decrepit boxcar._

_For a reply, I heard a loud bang, something so deafening I thought the universe had exploded. The shock shivered up my spine. It took a moment for my mind to catch up to what I saw, and even then my mind refused to believe it. Time slowed its pace as he fell, gracefully yet lifelessly, into a puddle. I took a step backward, and another, until I was back in the middle of the road._

_“NO!” I screamed, and then bright lights overtook me, and everything was lost._


	2. Chapter 2

_It’s snowing._

Head pillowed on his arms as he sat half-asleep at his desk, Mark gazed outside the school window to the wintery world forming outside. Time seemed to slow as Mark watched the dots of white fall, shock freezing up his body in fear, until he realized something important.

It wasn’t winter.

 _This must be Jinyoung’s doing,_ Mark mused to himself, breathing a sigh of relief. _Anger, or to be irritating?_ Head never leaving the comfort of his arms on his desk, Mark turned slightly until said boy was in his peripheral. Immediately, Mark could tell which emotion was making it snow outside just by the smirk on Jinyoung’s handsome face, but if he hadn’t turned to look at the boy nearby he would’ve figured it out quite easily by Yugyeom’s angry shout.

The tall boy ran to the window, looking ready to melt the snow purely from the fury he was clearly emitting. That was something Mark liked about the younger boy -- Yugyeom couldn’t hide his feelings well at all. It reminded Mark a lot of… _no, don't think about it._

Focusing back on Yugyeom, Mark watched as he stormed over to Jinyoung, yelling about some kind of practice and Jinyoung being a sore loser, to which Jinyoung coolly retorted back with a jab that Jinyoung had probably used on the younger boy countless times, yet was still effective in riling Yugyeom up. Youngjae laughed somewhere in the background, probably at Yugyeom’s expression.

 _3...2...1..._ Mark counted in his head.

“Stop it, Jinyoung.” Jaebum’s cool, level voice sliced through the argument, and Jinyoung glared Jaebum’s way before huffing and turning away. Mark could hear the rain now pelting the windows -- more appropriate weather with summer just a week away. Burrowing his face back into his arms, Mark sighed. A day didn’t go by without Yugyeom and Jinyoung at odds, Jaebum the one to usually break up the fight. Mark was pretty sure the pair weirdly enjoyed their bickering, though, and while both boys could be rather heated in their remarks to each other, it was often followed up with smiles and quiet laughter.

“Earth to Mark-hyung~!” BamBam’s voice sing-songed in his ear. “Please join us back on this planet!”

Mark lifted his head only to the point that his friend could see his eyes, giving him a clearly unimpressed look.

“Just making sure you’re alive,” BamBam said jokingly, but then under his breath asked, “Did you sleep well last night?”

It was a common question to Mark, and Mark hated it. He knew BamBam was just worried about him, and he knew the dark circles under his eyes attested to the fact that no, he did not sleep well, which prompted the question in the first place -- but still, he hated it. It made him feel weak, and useless, not to mention it made him think of why he didn’t sleep well in the first place.

So he just glared at BamBam and lowered his head back into the comfort of his arms, dismissing his friend. If Mark said anything, BamBam would probably take it as an invitation to ask more questions, and Mark was not going to indulge any such thing.

Having to think about it was bad enough. Talking about it? Forget it.

He felt the gentle press and squeeze of BamBam’s hand on his shoulder in reassurance before he heard the chatter start to flow from the young boy’s mouth, BamBam reliably off to find people who would actually respond back to him with words. Mark smiled a little to himself. BamBam had a hard time staying quiet, constantly talking whenever he could. _Just like Jackson._

The smile fell off Mark’s face.

After 3 years of separation, Mark still couldn’t shake the memories of his best friend. Mark had been 16 the last time he’d seen Jackson. Mark consoled himself with the fact that after spending 10 years with someone always around, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to still miss them after only 3 years. When those 3 years turned into 10, then, _then_ Mark would be fine to let go. Or so Mark told himself.

Mark ignored the tiny part of his mind that reminded him that Jackson was also Mark’s first, and so far only, love. He wasn’t sure when the friendship he felt morphed into something more, but Mark never even had the chance to say anything before he was so cruelly ripped away from his old life, his old friend.

Now, even if given the chance, Mark would never say anything. He couldn’t. Not when he’d recently been plagued with visions of Jackson’s death.

That was Mark’s power. To see the future. Visions of what could happen. The future was never set in stone, but what Mark saw was most likely to happen. He could easily see a few moments into the future, but to see things weeks, months, or years away was harder. Those visions came on their own, when they wanted to.

Jackson’s death was one of them.

He never told anyone the content of that particular vision. It seemed to come to him mostly at night, so he was able to brush it off as a nightmare. It bothered Mark, though, that he had this vision more than once. 8 times since the first one, in fact, over the course of three years. Mark almost never had the same vision twice, so it worried Mark even more.

Maybe this vision was unavoidable.

 _Jackson isn’t anywhere near here_ , Mark reminded himself. _So it can’t be true_ . _He doesn’t know where I am. So he isn’t going to die. It’ll be fine._

Ignoring the pain in his chest at those words, as if his heart knew he was lying to himself, Mark stood up from his desk and went to join his friends.

 

\-------

 

The school Mark attended was one for those with special abilities, which most people tended to call “super powers.” It was hidden from the world, though, as the general population didn’t know that people with powers existed. Many worried that if they did know, they would use these “special” people for experiments, or rage against them for their differences and try to lock them up.

So people with abilities were quietly sent away to the school. Mark had been taught that it had to do with mutated genes and such, but Mark didn’t really care. He didn’t care about that much anymore, except making sure his friends were safe. That’s all his power was really good for, anyway. Except in Jackson’s case...then it was just torture.

Mark hadn’t been quietly sent away like most everyone else. In fact, Mark hadn’t even been aware of his power until after he was at the school. Not being a physical power, Mark had just thought he was having bad cases of deja vu. He did use it once to make Jackson think he really did have the power to see the future, finishing his sentences before Jackson was done speaking them. Mark chalked it up to just how close he was with Jackson, not an actual power of seeing the future.

That was the last time he saw Jackson, before Mark was kidnapped.

Mark had a vision about it, but since Mark didn’t know what it was, he just thought it had been a bad dream. Two days later, Mark found himself bound and gagged and in a van, hurtling through the night to God-know’s-where, men looming over Mark with ill intent. They took him to some abandoned warehouse and roughed him up a bit when Mark wouldn’t answer their questions to their satisfaction. They asked things like, “What am I going to say next?” or “Where will you be in a day?” or “Where’s the Puppeteer?”

Mark was scared out of his mind and couldn’t comprehend what they were asking him. He was rewarded with some punches to his face and gut, his eyes twisted tight as if that could ward off the painful blows. But no more came, and when Mark carefully opened one eye (his other eye had a cut above it and was dripping blood) he found a battle raging around him. People with spectacular, impossible abilities fighting each other.

It took the pain in his body to convince Mark that this was real and not a dream. After he was saved, he was taken to the school, where it was explained to him what he was, what he could do, and that he had been kidnapped for that reason. He didn't understand how anyone could've known, and the headmaster said it wasn't important (which Mark filed away to bring up later). He called his parents, who weren’t allowed to know the school’s location, so they met up somewhere (Mark, with adults from the school as bodyguards) so Mark could run into their arms and make sure they were okay. He had been so worried the kidnappers had done something to his family, but they were unharmed. Mark’s parents both cried with relief and sadness, devastated to know that their child had been in serious danger and had been hurt, but so very glad he was okay, thanking the escorts from the school profusely for saving their son. Mark had been worried he wasn’t going to be able to see his parents again, but he was assured that while it was safer for his parents to not know where the school was (and therefore they could never visit), Mark was certainly allowed to Skype, email, and call his parents, as well as arrange for meetings outside the school. It was still hard to leave them.

He couldn’t wait to contact Jackson -- he knew his friend was probably wondering what was going on, with Mark leaving without saying anything, and it had already been 2 days. After his ordeal, however, he thought it was best that he wait until the morning, when he could gather his thoughts better. That was the first night of the vision of Jackson’s death.

Needless to say, Mark was horrified. He begged his mom to keep his power a secret from his best friend, and to pass on the message that Mark was sorry, he missed him, and that he would contact Jackson later. Later became 2 weeks, with Jackson incessantly texting or calling him despite Mark’s silence. Mark had convinced himself that maybe it had been a fluke, and so he and Jackson caught up with a 4 hour Skype session that made Mark finally feel _right_ again.

He had the vision a second time that very night, even more detailed than the last -- including Mark’s role in killing Jackson. This continued for 2 more nights. Mark, terrified, spiraled into depression, and consequently kept the texts to Jackson to a minimum, until they finally just stopped about a year ago. _Maybe if I don’t associate with Jackson anymore, it will save him_ , was Mark’s line of thinking. It worked. Mark didn’t have the vision again for a whole year.

Until now. Now, Mark had the dream 4 nights in a row.

That wasn’t the only vision Mark had. He actually had quite a few visions, most of them inconsequential. A handful of times, Mark had a vision that impacted another student, or the top secret missions that the adults would occasionally go on. It was the only time he felt useful.

He didn’t have the power of fire, like Jaebum -- able to create fire with the snap of his fingers, or become a human fireball and torch everything in his path. He didn’t have the power of water and ice like Jinyoung, or lightning like Yugyeom. He didn’t have the ability of transformation like BamBam, able to turn into any animal or person he chose. He didn’t have the healing abilities of Youngjae, who could also poison someone with just a drop of his blood. All of those powers were helpful and effective in protecting others, or aiding in battle.

Mark was a sitting duck while he looked to see what _might_ happen. He could be wrong. He could mess it all up if he was wrong. Which was probably why Mark struggled to control his power properly.

Now sitting at lunch, Mark wondered if someone had a power that would let him trade his power with someone else’s, as his gaze wandered over to where Yoongi sat. _The power to control weather would be cool_ , Mark thought. His eyes skipped over to Jin. _Or invisibility._

Mark sighed, picking up his pizza to eat, but setting it back down after one small bite.

“You know, that’s the 6th sigh I’ve heard from you today, Mark-hyung,” Youngjae said with a smile. _Jackson was always smiling…_

 _Get it together, Tuan,_ Mark chided himself. Why was Jackson filling his thoughts today? Mark shook his head, as if it would erase all Jackson-related thoughts permanently.

“Sorry, Youngjae. Bad night.”

“Don’t apologize, hyung. I understand.” Youngjae paused. “You can always talk to me, if you need to.”

This. This was the only thing keeping Mark sane. He had made some amazing friends at the school, who were constantly showing Mark care. He felt bad for making them worry, especially someone as bright and bubbly as Youngjae. That snapped Mark out of his daze, resolving to be more mentally present for the rest of the day. He had thought about his vision all day and still hadn’t figured out anything new. He’d think more about it later.

“Thanks. Want to play some video games later?”

Youngjae’s beaming smile was all the answer Mark needed.

 

\-------------

 

Mark had just finished a nice couple of hours gaming with Youngjae and was heading back to his dorm room deep in thought. Why was he getting the vision of Jackson’s death again? He had cut Jackson out of his life -- was that not enough? Mark needed to talk to the headmaster to try to figure this out. He was going to make sure that was one vision that _never_ came true.

Mark was making his way down the stairs towards his room when he felt someone slam into him from behind, hugging him for dear life.

“Mark-hyung, tell Jinyoung to bug off!” Yugyeom said with contempt, and Mark could see Jinyoung raising a fist at the younger boy.

“I already said that I was taking Mark with me! Go get ice cream on your own!” Jinyoung attempted to push Yugyeom off of Mark, but the boy just gripped Mark harder.

Mark couldn’t help but laugh, and loudly, at the pair’s antics. It took the others by surprise, and they stared at Mark uncertainly.

“Do you two ever quit?” He gave a light knuckle hit to Yugyeom’s head, laughing again and was about to do the same to Jinyoung when he heard an all too familiar voice say, “Mark?”

Mark froze.

_It can’t be. It couldn’t be._

Turning and looking ahead, Mark found himself staring at his best friend, Jackson Wang.

Mark's heart leapt into his throat. There he stood, as devilishly handsome as ever, more muscular and grown up, and still full of boyish charm. Jackson looked like he had seen a ghost, and with Mark’s now white blonde hair, he supposed the thought might not be far off its mark.

“Jackson?”

Mark whispered his name, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless to everyone else. All thoughts went out of Mark’s head when he said Jackson’s name. Just looking at his friend made him giddy with excitement. _It was Jackson. Jackson is here!_

Mark’s lips turned up into a giant smile, and suddenly Jackson was running down the hall to envelope Mark in a tight embrace.

 _He even still smells the same_ , Mark thought. His heart pounded in his chest as he returned Jackson’s hug.

“Mark!” Jackson shouted, now with joy, and he picked Mark up effortlessly, still hugging him. As Jackson spun around, Mark could see the shocked and confused faces of his two friends, and it was then that Mark came crashing back to reality. He felt like he had been punched in the gut.

Mark’s face morphed into one of devastated sadness. Jackson was still hugging him tight, babbling in his ear about everything, completely unaware of Mark’s 180 degree turn in emotions. Mark tried to listen and respond, but utterly failed. He went from complete bliss to sheer misery in a heartbeat.

If Jackson was here, then he was going to die. His vision was going to come true.

And it would all be Mark's fault.

 


End file.
